


museum? more like muse-see-'em for the first time

by Azumaru



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azumaru/pseuds/Azumaru
Summary: Yusuke has always enjoyed creating, up until he was stifled with crumbled foundation.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	museum? more like muse-see-'em for the first time

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while! This was written for an application to the Persona 5 Valentine's zine because honestly I don't have much posted and wanted to fix that. It's been forever since I've written any poetry, so it's nice to return to form. Also Yusuke owns my entire heart and soul, he gives me life.
> 
> I haven't played Persona 5 all the way through, life happens, but it's my goal to finish it by next year...
> 
> Hope you guys are doing well and staying safe! :)

Life without art is simply,  
Simply...  
Meaningless. Pointless.  
Like a brush with no bristle,  
no paint, no vision, no muse.  
That’s no way to go, is it?

When life rushed full steam to the hallway,  
pursued by golden streams of magnificent beauty  
and perfect form  
to strike the forbidden door  
wide,  
wide open--  
everything known, everything loved,  
gone,  
in a few instances of stroke and cover laid on canvas.

Palette empty,  
family taken,   
color depleted.

In a strange world with strange eyes trained on him,  
there is no victory in truth found.  
Chest full of stone,  
he presses onward not of his own volition,  
but there’s nowhere else to stay.

A few short hours open his eyes to nothing but  
rosy glass and saccharine lies,  
there’s so much coming at him  
and shelter is miles away.

His captors are gentle, oddly--  
didn’t they harbor disdain?  
He could practically feel the tense hesitation  
radiating from every heartbeat, even the cat(?).

Takam--Panther. Skull. Mona.  
Joker.

He thinks he can trust these odd characters.  
Mona, the india ink scratchboard.  
Panther, electric eyes masking a kind soul of watercolor calm,  
Skull, a blazing rush of graffiti’d loyalty,  
and Joker...  
Joker, a mystery with a thousand truths masked with a million questions.  
Joker, the ringleader of hope as he knew it,  
offering a gentle glove to save him from the very despair he’d caused.

His whole life, darting this way and that,  
like some cruel twist of irony and finicky fate,  
like a fox gone mad in ashen snowfall.  
Kitagawa Yusuke,  
drowned by raven’s hue and blindfolds,  
finally losing his grip.  
Wouldn’t his master get a kick out of this.

With nowhere else to go,  
no one else to lean on,  
no other pigment or substance to grasp,  
he’s out of options.

Under the blindfold,  
one option shines from steel heaven  
as a saving grace.

With a moment’s hesitation  
he reaches out, clasps shaky hands over this blessing,  
holds it close to his newfound heart.

Perhaps a new family found,  
a refreshed palette,  
a pristine novel studio,  
and a breathtaking steadfast muse  
could save his soul yet.

This pièce de résistance,  
this magnum opus,  
this absolute masterpiece of a man...  
may have already taken his heart  
before the first stroke.


End file.
